


Ten Years Hiatus (in our love story)

by bistiles (alis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Fake Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Runs Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/pseuds/bistiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was many things, most of them not at all flattering, but the one thing Derek never considered himself was insane. </p><p>Stiles though. Stiles was the very reason why Derek was, right in that moment, questioning his sanity. Because after ten long, painful years, he could smell Stiles outside his apartment and that was driving Derek right into the madness alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Years Hiatus (in our love story)

 

Derek was many things. He was too quiet, and had chronic case of bad mood. He was impatient, short-tempered and permanently angry. He was, at times, downright mean, he had a distinct lack of empathy for most people that not his family and friends, and he could push everybody he loved away with little effort.

Derek was many things, most of them not at all flattering, but the one thing Derek never considered himself was insane.

There was a time, right after the fire, that Derek was sure he was losing touch with reality. For the longest time, he couldn’t make himself react like a proper person, something that Laura had liked to tell him all the time. His emotions had been everywhere; Derek felt too much all the time, so much _pain_ that he thought he wasn’t going to make it. Until apparently he burned himself out, and felt nothing but anger.

Those had been dark days. But even back then insanity had seemed like something he had merely flirted with, dance around the burning coals of his own mistakes, until he made it to the other side.

There were those hazy, weird days where Kate had messed with him, made him sixteen and naïve again, but madness hadn’t really been something he considered. He knew something was wrong, he just didn’t know what was. And then there was Stiles in his dreams, guiding him until he made it alright.

Stiles though. Stiles was the very reason why Derek was, right in that moment, questioning his sanity. Because after ten long, painful years, he could smell Stiles outside his apartment and that was driving Derek right into the madness alley.

He had smelled Stiles’ scent before he had even heard the doorbell. It had hit him like a punch to the gut, making his legs feel like jelly, and his heart race. Derek hadn’t be able to move at first, paralyzed by vivid memories of years before, memories he had never forgotten.

> _It was dark in the forest, darker than Derek had ever seen. It wasn’t the lack of light, it was some thick, almost palpable feeling, like the darkness was a living, breathing entity looming over their shoulders. It made Derek’s fangs come down and his claws slide out even without him wanting to._
> 
> _The pack stayed close together, but Derek could barely feel them. There was something interfering in his senses, making pure dread coil in the pit of his stomach like nothing he felt before. He wanted to howl, and he wanted to run. He wanted to seek Stiles’ hand in the dark, make sure he was alive and well._
> 
> _He did neither of these things. Derek kept walking forward, to where he could feel the pull of the Nemeton, corrupt and powerful once again._
> 
> _They never made it to the Nemeton, though. Darkness closed up on them, cutting off all of Derek’s sense, except part of his hearing. And God, did he wish that was gone too. He didn’t know what was happening, except for the screams of his packmates, the blind panic of his voices coming and going through the thick darkness. Derek tried to find them, tried to get close, but he could never manage, not when he didn’t even know where he was going._
> 
> _He felt something cutting his arm, then his leg, and tried to fight back as well as he could, but to no avail. There were more screams – Kira, if he was right, Lydia on somewhere behind him. Derek knew it would be pure luck if he could manage to get himself out of that alive; he was beyond terrified for the others._
> 
> _In the midst of his blind panic, that was when he heard the one loud scream he wished he never did._ Stiles _._
> 
> _Derek ran through the darkness in the general direction, but all he managed was his something hard – a tree, if he was lucky enough. He tumbled down, falling face first in on the leaves, but got up fast, chasing the place where Stiles had screamed._
> 
> _Where Stiles’ had started screaming before it was cut abruptly._
> 
> _He tried not to think of that as he ran, but there was nothing else to guide him, and Derek didn’t know if he was passing right by Stiles or not. There was no scent in the air, no heartbeat to follow, no nothing. He kept running but it felt like he was moving in a nightmare, fleeing a monster about to eating him: never fast enough._
> 
> _He was about to let his wolf take over and shift when the darkness receded._
> 
> _Derek staggered at suddenly being able to see, hear and smell normally, but he didn’t waste time trying to find Stiles again._
> 
> _It didn’t take long as well._
> 
> _Stiles was lying on the ground, eyes closed, mouth parted. There was a gash on his chest, long enough to reach his hip, deep enough Derek could see bone. He wasn’t breathing. His heart wasn’t beating._
> 
> _Some said that the dead often looked like they were sleeping. Derek never believed in that, and he still didn’t. Because Stiles looked nothing but dead._

Derek considered not opening the door. He really did. He was all but ready to ignore what that scent and rule it out as some weird, ill-times sensory memory. Derek would do it, If the scent wasn’t accompanied by a heartbeat. And if the heartbeat wasn’t accompanied by a soft, pleading “Derek, I know you’re inside. Let me in.”

It was as if Stiles’ voice broke the spell. Derek moved fast, werewolf speed fast, and threw the door open with a bang. It took him a moment to be able to see, because it just seemed too surreal for his brain to understand. Nevertheless, Stiles was right before him. Standing in his front step, looking mild surprised and worried, wearing a faded hoodie that Derek had never seen before, and a plain t-shirt.

Nothing made sense.

Stiles looked _older_ , nothing like an apparition would look, oh no. He looked real, his face more sharp, his cheeks more prominent than they did back when he was nineteen. He looked every bit the twenty-nine years old, he would be if… If he hand’t died, ten years before. Derek knew he was dead. Derek was there for the funeral.

“... Hey,” Stiles said softly, and Derek felt his sanity slipping. His voice was deeper, rougher.

He couldn’t deal with it.

Derek tried to close the door, but Stiles put one hand out, held on it. Derek tried to force it, used his strength, but the door didn’t budge, it cracked, but it didn’t move, and _that_ terrified Derek. Stiles had never been a wolf, had never been anything but human. What…?

“What are you?” Derek whispered, feeling horror clawing on his throat. Was this how he was going to die? On the hands of a doppelgänger…?

“Look, I can see you’re thinking shit you shouldn’t, okay? Just… I have no right to ask but please just give me five minutes to explain myself. Please. Also pull the claws back, for God’s sake.”

Derek stepped back, knowing he would never be able to claw at that face, not Stiles. He was as good as dead if that creature decided to attack. Was it even that much of a terrible way to go…?

‘Stiles’ said nothing, just went inside and closed the door softly behind it. If Derek survived, he would need to repair it.

“Uh… The funny thing is that I had this entire speech ready to deliver when I saw you, but now I kinda can’t say any of it,” Stiles said, and walked around Derek, going to the couch. His step was hesitant, careful, like he was expecting something from Derek, “Which isn’t funny, it’s fucking tragic, to be honest.”

Stiles turned to him, shrugged before laughing. He looked so different, and yet, his body language was still the same. The way he moved his hands, the way he talked with his whole body. Derek was going insane.

“I’m not sure where to start,” Stiles continued, and looks at Derek like he was waiting for something.

Derek didn’t say anything. He didn’t react. He didn’t know what to do. His mind was drawing a blank over all the things going through it.

“And I forgot how you can do the silent thing as a pro. Which would be endearing, if I wasn’t freaking out.”

That made Derek snort, before he left a small, pained chuckle. It sounded more like a dying any more than a happy sound. Stiles looked torn by it, and Derek couldn’t even start dealing with that.

“You’re freaking out?” Derek asked, and his voice didn’t seem his own. Nothing seemed real anymore. “At best, I’ve finally snapped and went insane. Or you’re some shape shifter trying to kill me. And you’re freaking out?”

Stiles made a face at that, worrying his lip with his teeth. Everything about him screamed Stiles, and at the same time, didn’t.

“I’m not a shape shifter, okay, that’s your alley, not mine,” Stiles said at last, “You’re not going crazy as well. I’m, well, real. I’m me. Stiles Stilinski, pain-in-the-ass extraordinaire.”

Derek didn’t laugh at the poor attempt of humor, nor he react in any way beside going to his favorite armchair, the one he always read books in, and all but collapsed on it. Stiles took that as a permission to talk, apparently, because that was what he started doing.

“I know this seems insane but I never died. I mean, that seems obvious, seeing as I’m not a zombie; hell that would be creepy. I never died that night. I just… Left. I mean, I uh faked my death?”

There were many explanations for what had happened but ‘leaving’ wasn’t ranking on Derek’s list of possibilities. It was, in fact, so absurd and cruel, that he never even considered. It was so absurd, even more for having Stiles, who he believed dead for ten years, to be saying that in such a careless way.

“You what?”

“Uh. Long story or short s—Okay, okay, stop growling, Jesus. Abridged version: I had to fake my death to avoid certain doom over everybody, and it took me all this time to get myself in a place where I could come back and… I guess that’s it? I can give a longer version? Okay, so maybe that was tactless of me. Crap.”

Derek stood up, not knowing what to do with himself. Not when there was anger building up in his chest, as there was incredulity and _relief_. And that feeling, the feeling of relief that Stiles wasn’t – had never been – dead, only made his anger sharper.

“And I can see you’re getting pissed off,” Stiles commented, looking mild concerned. His carelessness was maddening, “Derek, c’mon say something. Anything, really. Your silence is making me go nuts here.”

Derek _screamed_.

“Pissed off? Pissed—I MOURNED YOU! I mourned your death, Stiles! I THOUGHT YOU’VE BEEN DEAD! For ten years of my life, I thought I failed to protect you! And now you’re here, appear on my front doorstep as if nothing happened? Where have you fucking been? Why did you left?!”

Stiles recoiled, as if Derek had slapped him, and God, did Derek want to. But he couldn’t bear to touch Stiles, not even violently. He couldn’t do anything, but pant and roar, and tremble, because apparently Stiles was alive, and Derek spent every single day of his life missing him for nothing.

“I’m… I’m so so sorry, Derek. I know! I know it doesn’t cut it, but…”

“ _Out_.”

“Please, Derek, I’m begging you just let me—“

Derek knew his eyes were glowing, his fangs had dropped. He wanted nothing more than to lose control, to tear the house apart, but he needed Stiles gone for that. Even after everything, he couldn’t hurt him. He never did. Never would.

“I don’t want to know, I just want you to leave!” Derek roared, and Stiles winced but didn’t move.

“A Darach woke the Nemeton up and I used my spark to absorb its powers, okay!” Stiles yelled, talking fast. 

Derek stared, not sure he was hearing things right.

“What?”

“The Nemeton… It was going to destroy us all. There was so much darkness, Derek, so much… it was—It was too much. Deaton mentioned there was a way, Lydia researched how, and I took the chance. I connected myself to the Nemeton, I made a bond so no other druid or Darach or whatever crappy fucker could tap its powers. But I couldn’t handle it. I was going to lose it, there was no way in hell I could even begin to deal with that. Derek, it was… It was worse than—Than the Nogitsune, it was…”

Stiles heaved a breath, panting as if he had ran a marathon. H was sweating, his cheeks splotched in dark red, and his eyes wide. He looked desperate, panicked that he wouldn’t be able to say his piece. And Derek… Derek was rooted on the spot, thinking back on when that all happened, putting the puzzle together. Yes, he remembered the new Darach, he remembered the sacrifices they never managed to stop this time around. He remembered how they had been puzzled on why the Darach had left; they had collectively believed that all the Darach wanted was power to use somewhere else. They were never the main goal, just the means.

That it had been something else entirely...

Stiles took a step forward, hands extended in a silent plea. Derek snarled at him, but didn’t step back. Stiles stopped moving, hands still in the air. Derek was _drowning_.

“So I had to leave. Deaton arranged for me to leave. And I knew that faking my death was the worst betrayal possible, but I never… Derek I didn’t know I would be able to come back. I thought that I was as good as dead. It was better if there was a clean cut than leave everybody wondering. I didn’t want for you or Scott, or hell, my dad to look for me. I knew you guys would do that. You would never give me up…”

Stiles stopped and if any mask of coolness he had before was still there, it shattered there. Stiles lowered his face, angrily cleaning away the tears he was valiantly trying to keep at bay. He took a deep breath and continued.

“I thought the darkness would consume me. And it almost did. But I… I mastered it. And it took me a long, long time. And then it took me a long time to convince myself I could come back.”

Derek startled at his own tears, as a sob broke past his lips. He hadn’t noticed he was crying until that moment. He didn’t try to stop himself.

“Ten years, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded, “I know. I’m sorry. I know I have no right, I should have never come back. I talked to my dad. Before coming here,” Stiles gave a bitter smile, shook his head, “For the first time in my life I was sure he was going to beat the crap out of me. He didn’t though.”

They fell into a loud silence, full of their own dissonant thoughts. Derek felt like he had been hit by a train, like his own body wasn’t in one piece anymore. Nothing felt real, except for Stiles’ voice, Stiles’ heartbeat, Stiles’ scent. He was alive.

He was alive.

“I hate you” Derek said in a low voice, and Stiles whimpered like he had been hit, “I hate you, and I hate your ten years of absence.”

“Derek. Derek, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“I hate you. But I’m so glad you’re alive and you’re back.”

“This sounds too much like a dismissal,” Stiles said in a small voice and God… Ten years, ten years of pain and mourning, and he was back and all Stiles had to do was plead with his eyes and Derek is crumbling again, “Like you’re glad I’m in one piece, but you want me gone. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want. Or what to do”

Slowly, Stiles tried to get closer again, and Derek shut his eyes and let him. He couldn’t look at Stiles this close, and the first touch on his arm was almost unbearable. Derek shuddered, taking a gulp of air. He felt the same. Stiles felt solid and real, and Derek felt like he was breaking and breathing against for the first time in ten years.

“I would be lying if I said I do, Derek. But… But I’ve missed you. Every day. For ten long years. You’re half the reason I decided to come back, and you were always half the reason I was afraid to.”

Derek shook his head, but Stiles just rubbed his arm in a calming motion, so tender.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault. It’s mine alone. But I was terrified of you kicking me out without giving me a chance – a chance I don’t deserve, mind you – that I hesitated for a long time. A year, I think, or longer. But I’m here now.”

“I can’t, Stiles. I don’t think I can.” Derek couldn’t. He didn’t think he could open his heart again. He had once, and Stiles had taken all the space inside his heart. Then he died—left and Derek was left with nothing but less than a soul to wander the Earth with.

Derek opened his eyes, and Stiles looked like everything he wanted, and all he was terrified of ever taking again.

“I’m not saying we jump right where we left things, because I’m not stupid. I’m not even saying I’m expecting anything, Derek. I don’t know if you built a life for yourself, if—if you have someone else. But… But I just want to know you again. If you’ll let me.”

Derek looked at Stiles, really looked, at the faint lines around his eyes, the new moles, the shaper jaw. He looked at the same amber eyes he remembered, the still perfect cupid bow of his lips, the roughness of his hand. He wanted to push him away, he knew he should for his own good, but Derek was never good at doing what was best for himself. So he took Stiles’ hand, feeling it trembling as much as his own and intertwined his fingers.

“There was never someone else. I could never.”

Derek never forgot how beautiful Stiles looked when hope bloomed on his chest, when happiness filled his eyes, but the real thing didn’t hold a candle to his memories. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on Stiles’. Maybe Derek should be stronger. But he didn’t want to be.

He had been strong for ten years after all.

“I would love to know you again, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Original Prompt being**   
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> Thanks, M, for the prompt!
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> You can find it on [Tumblr](http://bistiles.tumblr.com/post/122311447035/im-an-idiot-and-i-answered-this-in-private-to). Come say hi!


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